Gasparilla King Blog

A Vigil for Daniel

While Victor and Evan motored out to Egmont Key to head off the smugglers, Becca and Natalie waited in the living room of the Westcott Mansion for Victor's Uncle Carlos to relay any news from the search. Natalie had grabbed the phone when it rang, hugged the receiver to her ear.

"Early?" Natalie asked, her voice aquiver. Becca knew she was talking to Carlos Mendoza. She clasped her hands over her belly and waited. The air conditioner clicked on with a whirring noise, like the old vacuum that droned through the house so loudly that when Niobe turned it off, the house became still, somber as a deserted church. Becca didn't know which was worse, the eerie silence or this new arrival. She shivered.

While Victor and Evan motored out to Egmont Key to head off the smugglers, Becca and Natalie waited in the living room of the Westcott Mansion for Victor's Uncle Carlos to relay any news from the search. Natalie had grabbed the phone when it rang, hugged the receiver to her ear.

"Early?" Natalie asked, her voice aquiver. Becca knew she was talking to Carlos Mendoza. She clasped her hands over her belly and waited. The air conditioner clicked on with a whirring noise, like the old vacuum that droned through the house so loudly that when Niobe turned it off, the house became still, somber as a deserted church. Becca didn't know which was worse, the eerie silence or this new arrival. She shivered.

Natalie twisted the fringe on a silk shawl that she'd draped over her shoulders. She thanked Carlos and set the receiver back in its cradle. "Cuda's ahead of schedule," she said. A stray hair sprang from her bun and bounced wildly as she talked. "They had plenty of time, but now they don't. They're racing to catch the Sea Booty at Egmont." Natalie wrung her hands. "They could miss it."
"They won't miss it," Becca said.
"They could."

Becca leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. They might miss Cuda, but they couldn't lose the Sea Booty. Victor had told her this afternoon how Cuda had planned to pile the bales of reefer onto skiffs and motor them to Tierra Verde. "And leave the Sea Booty?" she'd asked. Victor said someone would drive the boat home. "My granddad?" It'd all clicked into place then. Becca knew Salazar suspected her grandfather was involved with the smugglers. She chewed the nail on her little finger while Natalie fretted, too worried to tell Becca to stop. She eyed Nattie. "You think Granddad's on the boat?"
Natalie shrugged. "Carlos says he's been king-napped."
"But what do you think?"
"I don't know." Natalie's voice rose an octave. "Should I know?"

Becca leaned back in the chair. She'd quit asking questions after Victor told her Salazar's men wanted to get to the ruins on the south end of the island to hide out and wait for Cuda. She couldn't help but picture Fort Dade, the old military outpost on Egmont Key. The relic from the Spanish-American War had been described in the first volume of Rebecca's diary. The Seminole Indians had been interned there before they were shipped out to reservations in Oklahoma. Victor said the island was like a ghost town now. Some of the original houses and barracks were intact enough to walk through, but in some cases all that remained were piles of brick and bits of concrete.

The grandfather clock chimed eleven. They hadn't heard a word from Carlos in over an hour. Becca started pacing, but Nattie told her to sit down. She was driving her crazy. Natalie had lit a candle and placed it on the piano. A vigil for Daniel, she'd said. The wax had burned to nil, and Becca wondered how they would manage the hours ahead.

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In chapter two of King Daniel, Becca has to grip the banister to steady herself when she climbs the stairs to her mother's bedroom. At the top of the staircase, she sees Eula, her beloved nanny, who has cared for Becca ever since she was born. From the novel we know Eula is an elderly family retainer who is slowly losing her eyesight. Here is a clip from that scene in the hall...

Daniel stood up and brushed smooth the creases in his overalls. His arms had grown hard and thin, and his belly had wasted, worn clean away. He was rugged and lean, a slide back to youth, and he imagined this time as an ecumenical passage, a time of shedding past sins. It was so clear now, what was not at all discernible in his life, and if he had to define it, he could, for the sense of what he felt this morning, watering the dead lawn and watching the worms slither up from the earth, was an adage, an apothegm that he could identify in one word: separate. And it was all so simple, the fallen leaves of an oak tree, squirrels rushing acorns to their nests, the lap of waves on Old Tampa Bay, a cardinal's song, the gusting wind, and sun, and heat, ice, flame, red and blue, and separate, and not as he viewed the world when he lived within its rainy arms.

Within minutes the Blew Bayou was gliding south toward the deep channel. They needed to get across the northern shoal of the island without hitting ground. Now the lighthouse beam lit up the port side of the boat markers that would guide them to the water that surrounded the island. Spider sat on the fishing throne keeping watch. As they motored toward the west side, the moon rose to twelve o'clock high and cast its light across Egmont Channel. Victor hiked a knee onto the seat next to the cabin door, so he could face the hull, while Kurt held on to the ladder. He told Evan to punch it.